Astoria and Draco (Part 2)
by ChanelleB
Summary: If you read this, I'll give you free candy.


Draco sat at the dining table, a tray of bacon and eggs before him. His hair was mattered and dirty, the skin that clung to his frail frame slung across his bones, greasy and pale. Why he had proposed to the girl that was sitting across the room from him, he did not know. Was it to make his bride happier? For his own cruel intentions, maybe? To make Daphne happier would be the final and complete answer, but for his cruel intentions? His old ways were coming out like curses from a wand. His mother, Narcissa, was still not over the death of her sister and had pursued and used it against him when she had encouraged the idea of getting on one knee. "Bella would have been so proud to see her only nephew marry a pueblood. So proud, Draco!" In some ways he missed his aunt. She was much like him, yet, she did not hold the coward characteristic like himself. He got that from his father.  
A kiss on the forehead pulled Draco from the evil dwellings within his mind, as Daphne headed towards the stairs. "I'm going to get ready and head off to my parents." Draco winced as he heard the smile float away with her words.  
The house elf that had rushed forward, took Daphne's plate. "Has Master finished his breakfast, sir?" Draco studied the elf as he let the disgust flicker over his face. The elf instantly bowed its head and scrambled into the kitchen. Disgust not at the elf, disgust with himself. Any excuse to leave - the cold set upon him was a sin.  
"You look fine, Draco," Narcissa hissed, fixing her sons tie and pushing the now clean hair out of his face. "Who else would you marry if Daphne was not the one? A muggle, a halfblood?" Revulsion snaked its way over her wrinkled features. Draco's eyes avoided his own mothers, staring blankly at the wall.  
"I do not love her," Draco snapped harshly. Daphne deserved better. He had loved her but it had slowly worn away like the shine on leather boots. She was so full of life and love, a person who could hold someone else together, not fix his maniac problems. The pain of losing his father right after the war still sat on his shoulders, somewhat between a troll and a giant. He didn't doubt that his mothers' was ten times the amount.  
Narcissa cocked her head to one side, studying her son for any flaws that may appear. "The wedding will start in ten minutes. I will escort you to the seats, you will wait for your bride at the alter." She sounded so authentic. Draco's mother had organized the wedding, paid for it all, the least Draco could do was not spoil it... but the desire was so temptingly deep. Questions infiltrated his mind, negatives that would not disappear. Narcissa grabbed Draco's arm and pulled him along.  
The backyard to the house he had lived in for the past 20 years of his life, looked completely different. Still elegant and fancy, yet, additions made it unrecognizable. The peacocks that he'd played tricks on as a small boy, made their way around the yard, occasionally running to avoid being trodden on by the strangers that smiled and waved. White lights dangled from the trees, humming faeries buzzing lazily around them like tiny, illuminated moths. Hundreds upon hundreds of chairs stood in lines, some vacant, many taken by witches and wizards who were talking excitedly. Golden platters of champaign were floating past people, who were keen to grab another glass and to the left of the scene, a white grand piano sat next to the alter, a small, balding wizard swaying in time of the tunes his fingers were creating. Draco stiffened and Narcissa let go of his arm. Was he really doing this? Marrying a woman he didn't love to keep his mother happy? Could he put his mother in anymore pain by walking away now? No, Draco could not. He wondered whether his parents had married for the same reasons as he was.  
Draco strolled up the long, white carpet, meeting the step to the alter slower than intended. This needed to be over and done with and then he could wallow in his own self pity. Draco turned to the priest, running a hand through his hair, hoping to catch the sweat that was threatening to run down his forehead and struggled, yet succeeded in replacing the grimace on his face with a smirk. "How long will this take?" He asked the priest, who looked up dully. Of course, he'd done this many times before.  
"Half an hour at most, then you and your bride can exchange rings and your celebrations my begin, my good sir!" He beamed, clasping Draco's sweaty palm. The priest shook vigorously, making him feel sick. Draco managed a small smile and pulled his hand away, turning to face the audience. Everyone was sitting, staring, watching Draco. What if they knew he had cold feet? Could they see it in his face. He caught his mothers eye, who frowned and nodded. Draco turned without and word and at that precise moment, his eyes found the deepest of blue staring back at him. Her hair was long and blond, held up by pins and the dress she was wearing slung down her figure, brandishing all flawless curves on her body. His stomach squirmed and he finally found the face in the back of his mind. Astoria Greengrass sat watching him and he knew, at that moment, Daphne's sister could read him like a book.


End file.
